Into The Breach
by Aconitum-Napellus
Summary: A Colditz (TV show) story. Simon Carter/Dick Player. Rated 18. Separated from Cathy by his imprisonment in Colditz, Simon is feeling hard up. Dick offers to help him out, and Simon discovers a whole new way of loving.


He had never had so much as an inkling that Dick was queer. Funny, really, that you could live with a man in such close quarters for so many weeks, and not know he was queer. He supposed they learnt to hide it well, that type. It could be a dangerous business letting something like that slip, especially in the services. But Dick was queer. Definitely queer. Why else would he have enticed Simon up here like this?

He still couldn't believe he'd come, but Christ he was hard up, and Dick had seen that. He'd seen it first in the morning, when he'd come to shake Simon out of sleep so they could work together on a passport, and Simon had blinked awake and felt the aching in his groin and seen the tenting of the blanket over the centre of his body, and groaned. And Dick had looked down at that and grinned and said, 'I could help you with that, you know.'

He'd ignored it that first time. He couldn't quite believe Dick had said it, much less that he meant it. But he had definitely meant it.

But he, Simon, had Cathy. Cathy was waiting for him back home. They'd been married for such a short time, but they'd made the most of it, and his body had got used to sex. God, how he missed her, her body warm in bed next to him, the warmth of her, the pillows of her breasts, her hot, tight cunt…

And that was why he was here now. He couldn't really believe it. He wasn't queer, he was just hard up. Just so hard up. That's what he told himself. But there was something about Dick, wasn't there? He was tall, taller than Simon – although that wasn't hard. He had something about him, those angled cheekbones, those lips. If you had to think about going with a man, Dick wasn't a bad type to think about.

'Come on, Simon. You look like you're going to the gallows,' Dick said brightly. He offered his hand, but Simon didn't take it. He just thrust his hands into his pockets and stepped into the little attic room and looked around and said, 'You're sure no one comes up here?'

'No one _ever_ comes up here. I've spent hours in here and never seen a soul.'

'Oh, so that's where you go?' Simon murmured, looking around. The floorboards were bare and dusty. There were discarded boxes and yellowed paper and a pair of old curtains dumped on the floor. He walked lightly over to the little window and looked out. The room didn't have a vantage point over anywhere of interest. It was of no use to anyone. No use at all.

'Besides, I have _this_ ,' Dick said, and he held up a key between finger and thumb. 'It was in the door when I first found the place. If the door's locked, no one can come in.'

'Hmm, well, I suppose that makes sense,' Simon muttered.

'Come on, Simon,' Dick said. His eyes were sparkling with fun. 'You're hard up, I'm hard up. Plenty of people do it. It's necessary. Like – medical treatment.'

'Treatment,' Simon echoed. Then he looked at Dick suspiciously. 'I'm not kissing,' he said. 'No kissing.'

And Dick laughed. 'Why would I want to kiss you with that brush on your lip?' He held up his hands. 'No kissing. It's just business.'

Simon shrugged his shoulders uneasily. 'So, what do we do, then?' he asked gruffly, and Dick grinned.

'Well, first I'd suggest a bit less clothing,' he said, eyeing Simon with an air of professionalism that sent a shiver down his back.

So Simon uncomfortably took off his tunic and tossed it onto a chair, and Dick laughed again.

'Simon, I'm not after your tits,' he said, and Simon looked down reflexively, saying in a rather strangled voice, 'I don't have – ' He adjusted his tone to something deeper, more masculine. 'I do not have tits.'

And then Dick was very close, and putting a hand on his fly. Simon forced himself not to jerk backwards. He was was _so_ hard up, and he was going to go through with this. Dick flicked the button open on his trousers, and then ever so suddenly his hand was reaching down into the heat of Simon's underwear, and to his consternation he realised he was already getting hard.

'Oh, nice,' Dick said archly, squeezing a little at Simon's cock.

Simon choked.

'Come on, Simon. You need to relax,' Dick wheedled him. He took his hand out and undid his own fly, pushing his trousers and underwear down to his knees. 'Look,' he said. 'We've all got one. Mine's just like yours.'

And it was. Simon couldn't help but look. It was the same, but different too. A bit longer, but thinner. A bit darker, perhaps. Dick was getting hard too, and Simon could see the veins standing up along his length, his balls swinging below, hot and low. His own cock twitched, and he swallowed.

Dick bent to pull off his shoes, and Simon watched, mesmerised. His arse was like two white haunches of meat, and he saw the dark swing of his balls between his legs as he bent. And then Dick was naked from the waist down, and he turned back to Simon and said, 'Your turn. Go on. I won't bite.' But he eyed Simon's cock and smiled, and said, 'Well, I'll try not to. You look good enough to eat.'

'Good as peaches after solitary?' Simon asked, tilting his head on one side. If he couldn't draw on humour he thought he would have to just drag his clothes back together, and bolt.

'Better,' Dick said.

So Simon bent very quickly to take off shoes and socks and he snapped his trousers off as if he were preparing for a dip in very cold water. And then he stood there, shirt tails brushing at his buttocks, and he felt his face go red.

'It's rather sweet,' Dick said, reaching up a hand to fondle his cheek. 'Your nervousness, you know. It's endearing.'

Simon stepped back, brushing away Dick's hand. 'We agreed no kissing.'

'I wasn't kissing. I was touching your cheek,' Dick said. 'You've got quite a nice face, you know.'

'It's nothing to write home about,' Simon muttered. 'My nose is crooked.'

'If that's crooked then I'm bent as a nine bob note,' Dick said, and laughed. 'Come on,' he said, and he moved himself closer to Simon, coming right up against him as if he were going to take him for a ballroom dance. His groin ground against Simon's belly, just a bit higher than Simon's rapidly stiffening cock. And then his hand moved between them and he stroked Simon roughly, and then gathered both cocks into one hand and stroked them together, angling one against the other, long and hard.

Simon groaned. His knees weakened. He had never realised just how _sensitive_ the length of his cock was. Cathy was lovely in bed, so sweet and lovely, but she was a good girl and she didn't really touch him. She wouldn't dream of giving him head. And then he imagined Dick giving him head, and he felt something molten and hot welling deep in his loins.

'God, no,' he said as Dick's hand stroked him hard again. He could feel Dick's cock all along his, so hot and hard. 'Christ. Christ.' He could hardly see. 'I'm going to blow in your face. I want more than a fumble.'

And suddenly he really _did_ want more than that. He thought of Cathy, of her hot, tight body, and he was dizzy with the thought of it.

'All right,' Dick said soothingly. 'All right.'

And he let go of both their cocks, and Simon almost whimpered. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

'Simon, have you ever fucked a man up the arse?' Dick asked plainly.

Simon flushed. 'What the hell do you think I am?'

'I think you're a man standing in an attic room in Colditz with no trousers and a hard on that really needs a home. Have you ever fucked a man up the arse?'

Simon's eyes widened. 'You'd – do that? You'd let me do that?'

Dick smiled. 'Simon, it's about all I've been able to think about since I first walked in through the door of our barracks and saw you there. Have you ever seen yourself from behind? You've got such a perfect arse. I know you've got your Cathy. I know you're not queer. I'll make this easy for you. You don't even need to look at my face.'

Simon stared at him, visions of what Dick meant in his mind. He was going to kneel down like an animal and let Simon have him.

'No,' he said suddenly. A sudden sense of remorse flooded over him. If Dick was going to let him do this he wasn't going to do it like a dog in heat. 'No, I want to look at your face,' he said.

A little smile bloomed on Dick's face, a real smile, no front or show. This was a smile of tenderness, and it was so sweet that Simon smiled too.

'Well, then,' Dick said, and he fetched something from the pocket of his discarded trousers. Then he arranged a few strips of cardboard and those old curtains on the floor as a kind of bed, and he lay down on them and lifted up his knees and dropped them outwards. Lying there, knees spread wide, his cock hard and his balls crinkling, and that crevice below splitting open to reveal a tight opening…

Simon stared. He felt himself harden further. He really _was_ hard up, because suddenly that was the most desirable thing he had ever seen. He knelt down between Dick's outflung knees, and reached out a hand to touch his cock.

Dick groaned as Simon's hand closed around his hardness. Dick's cock felt like his own. Hot, hard, veined. He could feel the pulse beat of Dick's heart right through his cock. Then he stroked his hand down over the cool ridges of his ballsack, and then touched the soft curve of his arse.

'Simon,' Dick said very seriously. He held out a little jar. 'You're going to need this.'

Simon took the jar and opened the lid, and recoiled at the white, greasy, smelly substance. 'Christ, what's that?'

'I _think_ it's goose fat,' Dick shrugged. 'I pilfered it from the kitchen.'

Simon stared at the stuff. It wasn't like they were going to be cooking up here.

'And – er – what do I do with a jar of goose fat?'

Dick laughed then. 'You put it on you and in me,' he said.

'In – on – ' Simon spluttered. 'If you think I'm going to rub my privates in goose fat...'

Dick lifted his head a little to eye Simon's hard, swaying cock. 'If you think you're putting that in me without lubrication, Simon, you can fuck right off,' he said.

'Oh,' Simon said.

He looked at the jar again, and at Dick's body again, and at his own cock that was so hard it was weeping at the tip. So he dipped his fingers into the foul stuff and he slicked it over his cock, and although the smell that rose made him squirm, god, it felt good. He stroked himself a few more times just feel it.

'I'm going to smell like a roast dinner,' he said.

'You're going to smell divine. All right,' Dick said. He was lying there so lazily and wantonly spread on those curtains, but Simon could hear a little catch of need in his voice. 'All right. Now you need to use some on me.'

'On – '

'Simon, dear, you put it up my bum hole,' he said plainly. 'With your fingers. With one finger at first. Then another. Then another, if you can. It's been a long time, and I'm tight. The body wasn't exactly designed for this.'

Simon made a little moue of disgust. 'I have to stick my hand up – '

'Your fingers, Simon. I'm not a cow. I know it's not pretty, but if you want to fuck me then you have to do it.'

'Oh,' Simon said. He dipped his fingers into the grease again, and he pushed Dick's legs a little further apart, a little roughly. He stared at that pink puckered opening. He was clean, at least, very clean. He had washed himself first. That seemed rather sweet, that Dick had washed himself in readiness for this.

He touched a finger to that pucker, made himself touch it, and Dick hissed in breath. He was hot there, hot and dry, and he could see why goose fat was needed.

Suddenly Simon smiled. He was giving Dick real pleasure with this. He wasn't just using him for a fuck. He stroked his greased finger over the dimple again, and Dick sighed, and his cock twitched.

'That feels good, huh?' Simon asked. He had never imagined that it could.

'God, you don't know the half of it,' Dick muttered.

So Simon swirled his finger, and Dick hissed again. It didn't feel so bad. It felt all right. It was an interesting sensation, to say the least. And then he pressed at the hole, and then he pushed in to the tight muscle, and his finger slipped suddenly into somewhere hot and slick that clenched over him so hard.

'I'm never going to get my cock in there,' he said.

'Believe me,' Dick said breathlessly. 'You will.'

Simon turned his finger, and Dick winced. 'Next time you can cut your nails first.'

'Sorry,' Simon said, and then he laughed a little hysterically. 'I can't believe I'm doing this.'

' _Do_ it,' Dick urged him. 'Come on. Another finger. You need to stretch me a bit.'

So Simon withdrew the first finger, and Dick groaned. He put two fingers together and put more grease on them, and then he pushed them in together, and god, he was almost swallowed into Dick's body, he was so tight and clenching and hot.

'Spread it a bit,' Dick said. 'Open me up.'

So Simon scissored his fingers and Dick groaned, and he pulled out as if he had been burnt.

'I'm not hurting you?'

'For fuck's sake, Simon, I'll let you know if you hurt me. I promise. Now, come on. Once more into the breach, my friend.'

'More grease?' Simon asked, and Dick nodded.

'Better more than less.'

And he spread his legs a little wider and Simon slicked his fingers again and pushed them in, one, two, and then three, and Dick moaned such a low, long moan that Simon felt little fireworks sparking through his balls and his stomach and in his mind.

'All right. All right,' Dick said, and his voice was low and dark with need. 'I'm ready, Simon.'

'You're – ready.'

He knelt there with his fingers, god help him, three of his fingers, buried in Dick's body, and the reality of the situation flooded over him. Dick must have seen it, because he said, 'Don't think about it, for Christ's sake. Just do it.'

So Simon drew out his fingers and wiped them on the curtain, and he took himself in hand in front of Dick's body, and eased himself forward. Then he stopped and said, 'I just – go right in, yeah?'

'Gently,' Dick cautioned him. 'Gently at first. Like I said, it's been a while. Don't worry. I'll let you know.'

'Okay,' Simon said.

'Just pretend I'm Cathy,' Dick said, and Simon snorted.

'Cathy wouldn't let me do this.'

Dick grinned. 'Maybe you'll be able to talk her into it. Now, come on. Come on, Simon. I'm ready. Fuck me.'

So Simon positioned himself again, coming down over Dick as if he were going to do press ups, and he took himself in hand and guided his tip to that tiny puckered hole, and was struck with the thought that he was trying to thread a needle with a tree trunk.

'Come on,' Dick urged him again softly. 'Just get past that first bit.'

And as his tip pressed against Dick's heat something primal overtook him. He needed this. Christ, he needed it. He pushed, and Dick groaned, and that sound of need was beautiful.

'That's it,' Dick said, and his voice was very gruff. 'Oh, god...'

Simon closed his eyes and eased further in. God, he was so tight. He was so hot. He hadn't felt anything like this since – No, he hadn't felt it ever before. Not in his life. Cathy didn't feel like this. Cathy had never been so tight. She had never felt so illicit.

'Christ,' he said, and he pressed his palms against the curtain on either side of Dick's body and he pushed into that hot, hot tunnel of muscle, and the goose grease seemed perfect now because it let him sink all the way down until he was buried hilt deep. His rough pubic hair was against Dick's balls and his own balls were touching Dick's arse, and it felt so good his head seemed about to explode.

'All right, all right,' Dick said, and he sounded as breathless as Simon felt. 'Simon, all right. You can move now. Come on. You won't break me.'

So Simon started to move, and – oh god, it felt like nothing he had felt before. Christ, it was so tight and so hot and – God... He pulled back and pressed in again, out and in, and it was slipping, squeezing, like the strongest fingers clenching around him, like – God. It was like god, this feeling. It was like meeting god. He had been holding himself off Dick's body, because after all he was doing this for need, wasn't he, not romance – but now he let himself down and his chest was against Dick's chest and he could feel his heart and hear Dick's little moans as he filled him and pulled out, and it was so sweet, so sweet, and –

'Simon,' Dick gasped even as Simon thrust into him. 'I don't suppose you could see your way to giving me a hand...'

And he grabbed Simon's wrist and guided it in between them, in the space where Simon's belly arched up over Dick's cock, and he suddenly understood.

'Oh,' he said. 'Oh, sorry, I – '

And he closed his fingers awkwardly around Dick's rock hard cock, and he pumped it as he pistoned into Dick's body again, and as Dick gasped his muscles tightened around Simon's cock and he couldn't hold it, he couldn't. Everything coalesced into one white hot blossom of pleasure centred in his balls, and he was coming like a fountain, coming into Dick's body, giving out a strangled cry.

'Christ,' he said. 'Jesus Christ.'

For a short time he hadn't been able to see, hadn't even remembered where he was. And then he realised that he was lying spent over Dick's body and Dick was still hard and was panting, and Simon's cock was softening and slipping out of that tight, tight hole.

'God, I'm sorry,' Simon said. 'I'm sorry. It's been so long.'

And Dick laughed quietly as Simon peeled himself up from his body and said, 'It doesn't matter. You'll do better next time. But if you could – '

And he directed his eyes towards his still hard cock, and Simon flushed, kneeling there with come glistening on his own limp cock, panting out breath.

'Grab that sock,' Dick said, nodding towards his shoes, and Simon did. The last thing he felt like doing was this, but he owed it to Dick. It was the very least he could do. He put the sock over Dick's erection and clasped his hand around it underneath, and he closed his eyes and focussed on the feeling of Dick's cock, the heat and hardness, the little noises of gratification that Dick made, until the cock convulsed in his grip and he could actually _feel_ it, feel that fluid running up Dick's cock in spurts, and there was hot come inside the sock and trickling down over his hand.

'Ahhh...'

It was a long, heartfelt sigh, and when Dick looked at him his eyes were sparkling.

'I won't say you don't need practice, but it was all right,' he said.

Simon wiped his hand off on the curtain. The scent of come was so strong. He noticed then that the curtain had little flowers all over it. It had probably been made up by some nice German woman. The awareness of what he had done flooded over him.

'Christ, I'm going to hell,' he said.

Dick propped himself on one elbow and regarded him. 'You're not Roman Catholic, are you?'

'Church of England,' Simon grunted.

'Ah. Well, I don't think you're going to hell. That was good, wasn't it? You feel better?'

'That was – ' Simon floundered, then he laughed out loud. 'Apart from coming like a teenage boy over a glamour mag, that was – Christ, Dick...'

And Dick smiled. 'There you go, then. We'll do this again, yes? You might last a bit longer next time.'

Simon looked around the bleak little abandoned room and their makeshift bed and at Dick lying there so casually with his legs still apart and a little pool of Simon's come that had dribbled from his body glistening on the curtain. The room looked strangely cosy now. It was a cosy, secret place, his and Dick's. And he wondered... He found himself wondering what it would be like to have Dick do that to him. What would it feel like to have Dick over him and inside him? It wasn't really like cheating on Cathy. It wasn't like he was going with another woman. But what would it be like, he wondered, to inject some tenderness into it all? What would it be like to kiss Dick's lips and to hold him afterwards and listen to his heart?

'Next time,' he said, and he smiled. 'Yeah, I'll last longer next time. What I really need is practice.'


End file.
